


I Bet You Wish You Could Die

by SuperHaleyWhoLock (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, and also probs later there will be smut, and i wrote this, angsty, get ready to feel emotions, hello yes it is i, i might add more characters in later chapters, im actually really proud of this story, superhaleywholock, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SuperHaleyWhoLock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel lives in a world where everybody is hopelessly depressed for no reason, and nobody can die. But, when something...unusual...happens, he finds himself in a weird situation in which he's not sure if he's dreaming (which is scientifically impossible in his world), having a psychotic breakdown, or is just living in this very bizarre new reality. Rated M for later chapters.</p><p>(AU in which Cas lives in a world where everyone's sad and nobody can die, blablabla, he gets transported to the real world (well, the Supernatural world), blablabla, maybe somebody dies, maybe somebody does the frickity frack, I can really take this anywhere.)</p><p>-discontinued until further notice-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Started With A Bottle Of Ambien

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey this is my first ao3 fic and im really proud of it and you should be too ^-^  
> (((also trigger warning for suicide in this chapter)))

Once upon a time, there was a world. A world far different than our own, where crimson tears trickles onto roofs and down windows instead of rain; where the sky was always a gloomy, depressing gray; where nobody cared enough to do anything but _not_ care; and most importantly, nobody could die. Many have tried, but all were unsuccessful.

Living in this world was a boy, just as miserable as everyone else. He was too apathetic to be sad, but too sad to be apathetic. He often dreamed of a world where everybody was happy, and when they couldn't be happy, they didn't have to stay and suffer - they could die.

He had vague memories of a world like that, but whether he was dreaming or had a psychotic break, was unclear to him. As part of him morning routine, as part of everybody's morning routine, he begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed, pounding his feet on the way to the kitchen out of unexplainable anger at some unknown force that forces him to live this way, and pulled a bottle of Ambien out of one of the cabinets. After downing the bottle without any type of liquid (he preferred to dry swallow his pills), he sat down at the table and waited expectantly. But just as he already knew from past experience, nothing happens. Pills don't work in his world.

That was common knowledge, even to the children who are no exception to the mysterious melancholy everyone suffers from. But people take the pills anyway, out of the microscopic sliver of hope they have that maybe one day, the pills will work.

It would be wise to describe the boy in question, as his journey is the entire point of this story: he is 5"11, 28 years old, and always wearing a tan trenchcoat (it has sentimental value). His face was scattered with stubble, his head topped with a mess of brown hair, and his eyes were a brilliant blue. They always made him stand out, as everyone else he knew had either brown or grey eyes. 

That's another thing. He always felt somehow different from the rest of the world, like he knew something that they didn't (which in fact, he did). Those "vague memories" he has are actually a little more than vague. He wasn't even sure if they were memories at all.

While nearly every other normal person in his world woke up in the morning purely so they could go back to sleep at night, this particular boy dreaded it. When the time came for him to close his eyes and drift off to what is supposed to be unconsciousness, he was almost always overcome by terror.

Nobody else dreamt. Ever. It was scientifically proven that nobody and nothing (at least in his world), was capable of dreaming, that it's all just folklore and myths. Well, he knew that, which is why he was so reluctant to believe that he was an exception when he found out that what he was doing was not normal. He'd dreamt all his life, and never thought to tell his parents until he casually brought it up at dinner one night when he was eight.

"Hey dad, guess what?"

"What is it, Cas?", he asked tiredly.

"Last night, I had this dream that we were swimming in grandmas pool, when the neighbor looked over the fence to say hi, and we were all skinny dipping. It was weird."

His father did a double take, partially because his son seemed so nonchalant about this, and partially because his little boy, who meant everything to him, was most likely suffering from extreme psychosis. He knew dreaming was impossible, but any kid could have lied about that. What really freaked him out was the fact that his son had never even heard of the term dream. So he couldn't have been making it up.

"I don't care, Castiel, and neither does anyone else."

He said that one simple phrase with such force and sternness that the little boy never mentioned having a dream again, even though he had them every single night before that moment and for the rest of his life.

But that wasn't the only reason he felt different. He was just as depressed as everyone else, but something in the back of his mind that she was constantly pushing further and further away was always gnawing at his brain, telling him that he didn't have to feel this way, that he deserved more than everybody else. But he never thought much of it, just labeled it as his subconscious being overly hopeful.

He just assumed he was the same as every other miserable soul around here.

Until one day, the pills worked.


	2. Don't Call Him Sammy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You probably thought this magnificent story was finished? You were wrong. I don't update often, mostly because as of right now, my laptop is broken, so I'm using the 40 minutes a day I have at school to write. But yeah, it's not over by a long shot. This is supposed to be a chapter summary, isn't it? Uhm, Cas meets Sam and Dean, and he's bleeding, but not out of his lady parts.

Light. 

Blinding, scorching, bright white light. 

That's the first thing I noticed when I woke up lying in a field of grass that might just be made of needles. All around me, as far as I could possibly see, is a flat, endless grassland, tinted slightly brown and dry as a bone. Above me is the source of the piercing-hot light: the sun. Having lived in a world where the sun was literally never out for 19 years, you would think that the sun would be welcome. But it's not. 

The sky is a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in the sky. 

Except, of course, that enormous grey cloud that seems to be getting closer and closer as each second ticks by. 

"Great", I mutter to no one, "first I get zapped out of the universe, and now this." I pull the hood of my jacket over my he- wait. 

I was zapped... out o- oh my god. Did really do it? Am I finally dead? Is this heaven? Or only slightly worse, hell? 

I try to comprise a mental list of the questions I have stirring around in my head. How did I get here? Where is here? Am I just dreaming again? Have I finally had my inevitable emotional breakdown? Why did the pills work? Am I alone? 

No, I'm not alone. In the half-second it takes for me to get from the question to the answer, I'm being pinned to the ground, and my screams are being expertly muffled. 

This guy must be more nuts than me, I thought as he started to pour water and salt on me. It came as a surprise when he slices my upper arm open, but it's nothing I'm not used to. 

"He's clean, Sammy", the man says to nobody in particular. Or at least, I thought so, until a gigantic sasquatch climbs out of the car that I somehow didn't notice before. 

He takes his hand off my mouth, and starts to bandage my arm with some sort of cloth, but I interrupted him before he could say or do anything. "No, I'm fine", I say as I stare into his bloodshot green eyes. 

"Are you sure? I cut you pretty bad, I do-" "I said I'm fine", I say loud enough for them both to hear. "Oh." Realization starts to register on the shorter one's face, and he backs off a little. 

'If you don't mind my asking, what the fuck was that?", I ask. The taller one chuckles. "You wouldn't believe us, so we'll just leave you be and g-" "No you won't", I say, putting my pale, shaking hand on his shoulder. "You're going to tell me where the hell I am, and who the hell you are, and answer any more questions I might happen to have for you." "Oh, you think so?", the green-eyed nut job said. "Dean", the other man said, I think his name is Sammy. I guess the other one's Dean. Dean seems to notice my current state: white as a sheet, shaking violently, blood dribbling down my chin from my mouth, eyes a startling yellow. "Hey, are you okay?", Dean asks. I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is my last shaky breath before I pass out, inviting the darkness so different from the light I first saw. 

*** 

When I wake up, I'm not in a hospital, like you would expect any decent person to put you in when there's a gallon of blood soaking your shirt, but in a cabin. When I try to get up, memories of the last 30 minutes flood my head. Or was it 30 minutes? How long have I been out? 

"It's out of hibernation", Dean says as I sit up slowly. I scowl at him, but that only earns me a bigger grin. "How long have I been 'in hibernation'?", I ask Sammy. "Not long", he says, "around three hours." 

"Would you care to explain this blood? Because I'm pretty sure that wasn't us", the giant says. I glance down, and examine the vivid red staining a good portion of my pale blue hoodie, and all of my neck. There's the unmistakable taste of blood and copper in my mouth that only confirms what I already suspected. As they look at me expectantly, I make swirling patterns with the blood on my neck. 

"It's nothing. I mean, I guess it's something- well, no-" I cut myself off. In order to explain this minuscule injury to them, I must first start from the beginning. I take a deep breath, not because I'm nervous about telling these two complete strangers whose opinions mean nothing to me, but because it's gonna be a lot of words, and I'll need my breath to say all of them. 

"I guess I should probably start with my name. I'm Castiel." "Hi, Castiel", they both say in a monotone voice, as if we were all in alcoholics anonymous. That's one thing I'm all too familiar with, because as I've had to discover for myself, alcohol tends to drown out the sadness. 

"But yeah. I'm Castiel", I repeat, "and I'm not actually sure where I am or what happened, exactly." They look unphased. "This is gonna take a while, you might as well sit down," I tell them, but they just stand there, ready to pounce on me if anything goes wrong. 

"So, all my life, I've lived in this place, and it's all I know. I'm not sure who you guys are or if you're even human, but where I live, you can't die. Like, ever. And everyone is super depressed. There's nothing we can do about it. It's just the way things are. Just like there's blood in your veins, there's pain in your mind." 

"Woah man, that's deep", Dean says sarcastically. "Shut up", I say as I nudge him with my foot. 

"So yeah. And it's kind of routine for people to try to die, even though they can't. Some try to drown themselves, others try pills. It never works. But today, or yesterday, or whenever, I don't know, I've lost all sense of time, I took a bunch of Ambien, and I blacked out, and then I woke up in that field, and I don't fucking know, everything's weird here, it rains water, and people greet each other by throwing salt in their face, and everybody's abnormally tall"- Sammy gives me a playful glare- "and I don't even know if I wanna go home". 

I managed to choke out that last part without ending up on the ground sobbing. I remember that I'm still soaked in blood, and that was their question in the first place. 

"And the blood, it's nothing. It happens to everyone. When you get sick, your body tries to rid itself of the disease, so it opens these tiny pores on your skin and lets the blood out, taking the disease with it." I feel like I'm teaching two grown men what 1 + 1 is (it's 2). This is common knowledge, even to the children. 

They look thoroughly disgusted. "What" I ask innocently. They just continue staring at me. "Nothing", Sammy finally says. 

"So Sammy", I begin to ask, "-woah woah woah, nobody calls him that but me, lady", Dean interrupts. "I'm Sam", he says, trying to suppress a smile. "So Sam, do you want to tell me where the hell I am? Heaven? Hell? Are you guys even real?" "Trust me, dude, this is a lot better than heaven or hell", Dean tells me. I decide not to question it. 

"You're on Earth", Sam says. "Well no shit I'm on Earth, that's where I live", I tell him. "Wait, so you're...human?", Dean asks. "I should hope so." 

"Well I've certainly never bled through my pores, and I'm feeling pretty damn happy right now, so one of us ain't what they say they are", Dean states. "What's got you so happy?" Sam asks him. Dean only blushes. 

"Well, how bout this. You stay here, and we're gonna go find some help." I look at Dean. "Help with what? I'm not dangerous. Except maybe to myself. But that doesn't give you the right to lock me in here. Nothing does", I tell him calmly. As I start to walk towards the door, I realize how damaged I really am. Falling to the floor immediately, the last thing I see is Dean's face as he scoops me up in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's hella short ik but hella rad too so yeah leave comments pl0x

**Author's Note:**

> i love this so much oh my god i am going to have so much fun with this leave me notes and reviews and all that good shit please?????


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